Animals
by Wildfire Dragon
Summary: Based on the maroon 5 song (even though I don't like it hah.) A one shot about Draco and Hermione - Granger's losing her mind during the war. Maybe that explains why she sleeps with Draco Malfoy. Smut.


ANIMALS

The first time Hermione Granger fucked Draco Malfoy, it was an accident. Not an accident, she supposed but a reaction to him not killing her on sight. And kissing her. Yes, the kissing had definitely helped.

ONE YEAR EARLIER

It felt to Hermione Granger that there had been nothing else before the war, as if her life had been condensed down into the few years that her, Ron, and the Order had been stuck in Grimmuald Place, raiding and trying to strategize a way to victory. She had her own room in the attic, and she'd brought a few artefacts from her muggle room to cheer up the walls; now when she looked at them they opened up a void in her chest. The Prophet was no longer a reliable source of news but those who came back from raids whispered of abandoned towns, the inhabitants fled, or worse. She would think of her parents in those moments and have to excuse herself, sitting on her bed with her body shaking until she was able to breathe, or until she fell into an exhausted sleep.

It was snowing the night Charlie returned from a raid; he had been not far from Grimmauld place, hunting down medical supplies. As their potion ingredients dwindled they had moved to muggle medicine, nowhere near as effective as potions but all they had left. He collapsed into the kitchen, blood streaming from his cheek. One of his eyes was gone, a black smoking scar in its place. Ginny had screamed at his appearance, but everybody else had accepted it with weary resignation. Hermione had injected him with morphine once he'd told his story.

"I overheard Dawlish talking to Yaxley. You know who has changed his target."

It had been three months since Hermione and Ron had seen Harry Potter. They'd taken the decision together, despite Harry's protests. He was on the continent somewhere, under the protection of the best Aurors Europe had to offer. They only knew he was alive from the few times he'd managed to send his stag with a message, the apparition appearing and giving few words of comfort. At Charlie's words all eyes swivelled to Ron, who sat hunched at the end of the table.

The information had come from an anonymous source; Hermione had been the one tasked with finding the person who had sent it. After testing it for every form of curse or tracking spell, she had had to conclude that whoever it was who had sent the information had hidden their trail well. Then had came the question of whether to trust what it said. Hermione could remember the arguments, the nights sat around the kitchen table with the letter passed from hand to hand, as if they would find something in the words that she hadn't been able too. The letter had told them that Voldemort had given up on his search for Harry Potter, after losing too many men following the false trails the Order had set up. He had come up with a new plan. He would capture somebody close to Potter and bring Potter to him. In Hermione's mind it had been a fool-proof plan. Everybody knew Harry's guilt wouldn't allow anybody to come to harm on his behalf, no matter the amount of times they had told him they weren't doing this for him. Despite their reservations about the source of the information the Order had taken what it said on board. They had decided Ginny and Ron were the most likely targets; both had been confined to the house for the last four months. Neither were coping well with the confinement.

"Who?" George was the one to ask.

Charlie's eyes swivelled to Hermione, the eyes of the rest of the kitchen following suit.

"Me?" Her voice squeaked. "But why?"

Hermione had been designated safe after she argued her case with Kingsley. While her and Harry were friends, best friends, Harry knew she was capable of taking care of herself. She also hadn't been his chosen one in high school, when the Goblet of fire tasks had required him to choose and she didn't see a reason for that to change. Kingsley had finally seen her point of view, after days of badgering from Hermione.

"I guess he knows you're the brains." Charlie muttered, avoiding her gaze.

THREE MONTHS LATER

Three months of house arrest and Hermione was beginning to lose her mind. She had read every book in the house, even the ones George and Fred had brought back for her from their raids. They'd taken to bringing back Mills and Boons and dark romances, just to see her face as she read the blurb. She was allowed one hour of exercise in the outside yard whenever an Order member was free, and remembered. She, Ginny and Ron made a sad sight as they traipsed around and around the tiny, overgrown courtyard, keeping their eyes on the ground to avoid looking at the dark clouds that had settled over London like a thick blanket wrapped around a sick child. They had little to say to each other anymore, their silences fraught with anxiety. Ginny's loneliness was palpable, and she had dark circles beneath her eyes from lack of sleep. Sometimes Hermione would hear her crying through the thin floor of the attic, would press her pillow over her head to drown out the sounds of misery. Ron was sleeping with Katie Bell, who was suffering from trauma and had been prescribed bed rest until she recovered. Hermione was glad Ron's room was on the other side of the house, far enough away that she wouldn't hear anything. She knew this even though she had never been told. It was the same way anybody knew anything in Grimmuald Place, secrets seemed to pass through the walls like air. Not that she cared about who Ron chose to sleep with. Their brief affair had fizzled out 6 months into the war when his paranoia had become too much for her to handle. She had broken it off. They hadn't made it further than a few fumbled groping's in the dark. It wasn't as if she hadn't had offers - there had been the one night stand with Fred that she had to push to the back of her mind everytime she was around him, wondering if anybody else knew or if they had somehow been the lucky ones, able to hide it. There had been enough chances for her to turn it into something more, a little 'stress relief' but something always told her it wasn't a good idea.

And so it came to pass that she was in her room, avoiding Fred and his attempts to lure her into a drinking game in the library when the news hit that the Order had come across a death eater training camp in the Highlands of Scotland and they had to mobilise immediately to take advantage of the tip off. The house suddenly became a flurry of activity, footsteps pounding up the stairs, voices raised in the corridors where normally silence reigned. Hermione climbed down the stairs, her book tucked under her arm.

"What's happening?"

Ernie McMillan paused in tying his shoelaces and looked up at her uncertainly.

"I'm allowed to know what's going on." She said, exasperated.

"They've found a death eater camp in the Highlands. They think Lucius Malfoy is there just now." Ernie's face broke out into a gleeful smile, the bones of his cheeks like razors. Hermione left him quietly muttering spells to himself, and made her way down the main staircase. The portrait of Mrs Black had taken to shrieking but nobody was bothering with her. Hermione looked at the woman, her features eerily familiar and cast the spell that would silence her.

"Oh thanks, dear. She makes such an awful racket."

Molly Weasley patted Hermione on the shoulder before disappearing into the library and breaking up the drinking game. Hermione moved towards the kitchen, plunging herself into the shadows when she saw Kingsley step into her line of sight.

_Please, _she prayed softly.

"Dunkeld, they've holed up near the train station. They must have been using the Hogwarts Express line for transport." Arthur Weasley muttered, "they've got the camps set up again. Do you think we should warn some of the younger members?"

Hermione leaned closer to the door, awaiting Kingsley's response. The horror of what 'the camps' were had long since ceased to affect her, after all it had been Voldemorts intention all along to segregate society. Muggles, mudbloods, squibs, anybody who wasn't pureblood was sent to a camp somewhere and made to work. What they were working on was another mystery the Order was desperate to solve.

"Hermione."

Hermione wheeled around at the sound of Ron's voice, trying to keep her features smooth and guiltless. Ron looked awful, and he smelled ripe as if he had forgotten to shower recently. She moved away from the kitchen.

"Did you hear anything?"

She looked up at Ron, saw the desperation in his eyes.

"Dunkeld."

They'd waited until the Order members had moved out. They hadn't left anybody behind tonight, what they termed a watcher but what was more clearly a guard for the three of them to stop them doing anything stupid. They would need every member and Hermione had to fight to keep her face straight as she watched them apparate, sobering herself with the thought that this might be the last time she saw some of them. They had left it half an hour before they could no longer wait. They'd decided to apparate in at different points to make them less likely to be captured; after looking at a map and marking out the points where they would land, they had raided Molly Weasley's closet. Hermione had found a masquerade mask that Ginny had worn to her high school prom and with a handy spell that would ensure it would stay in place during battle, she was ready. She had chosen to be the first to apparate, promising to send back a patronus if the way was clear.

"And if its not?"

They had looked at each other, knowing that the lack of patronus wasn't going to stop the other two from joining the fight.

She'd apparated into a section of woods, near to Dunkeld train station. The peace of the woods was broken by the sounds of fighting nearby. Casting a patronus quickly and watching as it disappeared, she had felt her heart jump as a branch snapped behind her. Her wand had felt loose and unwieldy in her grip; it had been months since she'd had proper practice duelling and the few spells that sprang to mind were outdated. Her worst fears confirmed, she had faced a man in a dark robe with a silver mask over his features. The head was cocked to the side, curiosity at finding somebody so far from camp she supposed. His disarming of her was lazy and she'd let out a gasp as her wand flew from her grip. Then her brain had woken up to her situation and she'd started to run. She ran to the left, deeper into the woods. The death eater didn't attempt to stun her retreating figure as she would have done if their positions had been reversed but gave chase, crashing through the undergrowth behind her. She could have been running right into a trap for all she knew. Heart bursting in her chest she finally stopped in a clearing, figuring whatever was going to happen was going to happen and she might as well confront it bravely. The sight of her wand in the death eaters hand made her blood boil and despite her rusty skills, a jet of green light burst from her hand towards him. With a grunt he leapt out of the way, spinning to face her and raising his own wand. She didn't bother to cast a shield, even as the jet of light came towards her. Whatever came after death had to be better than returning to Grimmuald place with no hope, no plan and no idea of the future. She felt a tingling on her cheeks and realised the mask had disappeared. She let out a gasp, reaching her hands up to cover her face. She'd hoped for death, not betting on them wanting to know who was beneath the mask.

"Granger?" the voice came out strangled and thin from beneath the mask. She recognised that voice but her mouth was dry and she could only stare as the death eater's mask disappeared like smoke to reveal the chiselled features of Draco Malfoy. He'd looked better, Hermione was surprised to note. He was thinner than he'd ever been in school and there were dark circles under his eyes. His hand had fallen to his side, the wand clutched in it forgotten.

"Draco." She finally managed to mutter. She was shaking, she realised with a start.

"Are you fucking crazy Granger?" He had started to laugh, a manic laugh that made her take a step away from him. But he was advancing on her, looking at her in something close to awe. He still hadn't raised his wand. She backed away until there was nowhere left for her to go. The bark of the tree had been rough and damp against the back of her shirt.

"Yes." She had replied, looking up at him as he continued to advance until he was deep in her personal space, seemingly completely unaware of her discomfort. It wasn't until he felt her hands on his chest that he stopped, staring down at them in surprise. Then he'd kissed her, before she could ask him what he was doing. He'd tasted like cinnamon, his lips chapped from the cold. Her hands had been frozen on his chest while he kissed her, attempting to coax a response from her. She wasn't sure when she'd began to respond; maybe it had been the gentle probing of his tongue against her lips, seeking entry, gentleness when she'd expected him to be rough. Her hands had moved to wind around his neck, pulling him closer, opening herself to him. His body had been lean and bony as it pressed into hers, pushing her further into the tree and causing a flood of strange, normally dormant feelings to well up within her. She had been the one to push at his robes, forcing him to break the kiss to unclasp them and let them puddle on the ground. He had went back to kissing her before she could doubt herself, his own hands on the buttons of her shirt, opening them even as his concentration was elsewhere. The cold air hit her skin like a wave, goosebumps only added to by Draco's hands caressing the skin he had exposed. He began to kiss down her throat and she threw her head back to look at the sky so she wouldn't wonder what she was doing, why she was doing this. His hands felt so good, caressing her hips, rising to cup her breasts, his breath harsh and uneven near her ear. She shrugged out of her shirt at his pause, reaching around to unclasp her bra. She looked down at herself, as Draco drew back to take in the sight of her topless in a Highland clearing. His gaze seemed to make her more daring. When she thought back on that night, she'd wonder what had come over her, whether he had put a spell on her but she'd tested herself when she got home, her wand returned to her after their tryst and the last spell had been the one to remove her mask. He was breathing heavily as her hands went to the buttons on her jeans; she'd shrugged out of her trousers and pants and stood before him naked, watching the way his eyes darkened, focused completely on her. She could see his erection straining against his trousers. If she hadn't seen his hands move she would have thought he'd disappeared his clothes for suddenly they were both naked and he was kissing her, his body nudging its way closer to hers. She watched as his fingers sank into her heat, refusing to flinch even as the dark mark writhed on his arm, as if it sensed Draco's transgression. Then she was tumbling into an orgasm, gasping incoherently as her body shuddered around his fingers, his head collapsed onto her shoulder as if he was no longer able to hold himself up. They didn't speak as he picked her up although he gave her plenty of time to tell him to stop. Hermione was surprised to find she didn't want him too as he lined himself up in between her legs, her own wrapped around his pale, too thin hips, the tree at their back. As he sank himself into her, she realised that all she could hear was the sound of a forest at night and then that thought was taken from her by Draco moving within her, and pulling her lips into a demanding kiss. They'd fucked against the tree until she came again, hard, keening loudly and then he'd lowered them gently to the forest floor. She'd thought at first that he would want to be on top but he lay down, and positioned her above him. Sensitive, muscles still rippling from orgasm, she let out a moan as she lowered herself onto him, his hands on her hips helping her pace herself. He was staring at her like she was the most amazing thing he'd ever seen and this, of all the things she'd done that night was the thing to make Hermione Granger blush. They'd came together, his hands tight on her hips as he held himself within her, eyes screwed tightly closed.

Hermione never made it to the battle that night. When Ginny and Ron asked, she would tell them she had gotten lost, turned around from where the battle had been, a battle which was a resounding success for the Order. Much of that victory had been in the defection of Voldemort's most senior officer – Draco Malfoy who had killed thirteen death eaters before they realised what had happened. She knew he was in a safe house somewhere but she made no effort to seek him out. After all, what would they say to each other? It had been one night, a one night release from the war and she hadn't been herself. That was what she told herself at night, when all she could see in her minds eye was not her friends, or the people they had lost in the fighting, but a starless sky and the eyes of Draco Malfoy as they locked with hers.


End file.
